


Under his skin

by Serinah



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Angst, HEA, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Tony Stark, Pining, Silver Fox Tony, past Skrull!Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27303454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serinah/pseuds/Serinah
Summary: Tony had looked at the skrull wearing Bucky’s face in the eye, and shot him dead. No negotiation, no hesitation. Just one question and bam. Dead.Then Bucky returned, still oblivious to what had happened, and still pining after his boss and his friend. At least he *thinks* they were friends... Weren't they?(The first part is Tony's POV, the rest is Bucky's.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 49
Kudos: 165





	1. Shed the green

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MassiveSpaceWren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MassiveSpaceWren/gifts).



> This story takes off after the Secret Wars: Civil War 2015, a niche timeline where America was split in two: the Iron, governed by Tony and the Blue, led by Steve. Bucky is, without any explanation shown to have taken Tony's side and is working for him as an assistant bus also seemingly a close friend. After many political intrigues, bloodshed and economic pressure on both sides, they discover that it was skrulls that orchestrated the most of it. The comic culminated in Tony shooting skrull!Bucky and Steve and Tony dying in a big explosion that took most of the skrulls with them. In my story, they survive. It is left unexplained whether the Bucky disappeared before the country was split or whether he is even alive. This is my fix-it. :)
> 
> Thank you Nico and Bae for the beta! You're the BEST! <3
> 
> And thank you, Wren, for prompting and inspiring! It's been an awesome journey! <3

They’d been in a relationship for over three months when Tony shot him. Three months and an eternity. Maybe they’d have been through with each other by that time anyway. He and the skrull. How else would he have managed to repulsor a man he’d thought he loved? Did he even know who Bucky really was? He didn’t. He couldn’t. The man whom Tony thought would always be by Steve’s side was most probably taken before Tony ever got to know him. Why else would he take Tony’s side in this conflict?

The skrull had been good. Not many people had known that they were lovers but no one had thought it weird that they’d fallen in love apparently. But now, no one was sure how far back the switch had happened…

So, once more, it was just Tony letting his heart get attached at the simplest hint of seduction. Must’ve been so easy for the skrull - just earn Tony’s friendship, give him a few admiring smiles, hint at more and Tony's heart was gone, gone, gone.

It had felt amazing when Bucky asked him out, just like Tony had stupidly been dreaming of for so long, since they’d become friends while governing the Iron. It had never been real though; he knew that now. The real Bucky Barnes had never liked him enough to seduce him. Whenever the kidnapping had happened, Tony just hoped that they could get Bucky back. The real Bucky Barnes. Maybe then Tony could at least try winning his friendship?

“Arlid,” Tony called his current assistant, “any news from the Blue?”

Steve had an investigation going on the possible location of the people whom the skrulls had replaced. They had to be alive. They had to.

“No, sir. Not yet.”

“Thank you, Arlid.”

The trail had gone cold. Tony had all his satellites up and running, he’d interrogated two skrulls but they hadn’t seemed to have known anything. Tony shot Bucky— the skrull. He repulsored the skrull in the face and now he needed to see Bucky alive.

Please.

Tony got some of his paperwork done, compulsively checked the satellites and yawned. God, he hadn’t slept in days.

“Arlid, did you manage to reschedule my three-thirty for tomorrow?”

“Just right now, sir. You have a lunch meeting with him tomorrow at noon.” There was a short pause. “There, you can now see it in your schedule.”

“Thank you, Arlid.”

“Anytime, sir.”

Skrull. It was a skrull. That was whom Tony had shot.

Tony’s nails pressed into his palms as his fists tightened. He took a deep breath and relaxed his fingers.

It was a skrull who’d seduced and betrayed him; a skrull who, for a very short while, had made Tony feel loved, but it hadn’t been real. It hadn’t been Bucky. Bucky was alive. The real one. The one who Tony had known eons ago, before the Civil War. The man who’d loved Steve but stood by Tony’s side for the law and order, the Iron, Tony and his cause… that image kept blending together with the man who made him feel wretched in bed, made him feel small and pathetic, but who, in spite of everything, Tony had still loved. Foolishly, desperately. God, Tony was stupid.

*

It took three months and two weeks to locate the frozen pods. Only a third of the replaced people had been kept alive, but Bucky was among them.

Thank god.

The night Steve told him, Tony wept.

*

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Barnes’s quinjet has landed and he’s en route to the Tower.”

The fact that he arrived a week early, didn’t mean anything, Tony thought as he nodded to his assistant. Bucky’s apartment was in the Tower just like many other people who worked for the government. The divide had made the country so densely populated that most of the offices had been converted into living quarters. Floor by floor, Tony had given away most of his tower so that people had somewhere to live. Even Tony’s own offices were now in his penthouse, separated from his personal space by a fake wall.

Bucky wasn’t returning to _him_ , Bucky was just coming home. Checking out his apartment after the gap of nine months.

(Five months before the… reveal. Apparently, Bucky had been replaced just before the seduction had started.)

(It was fine.)

Perhaps, he was coming on behalf of Steve? Not to take back his post but as an emissary of the Blue? Almost a month ago, Steve’s operation had finally uncovered the place where all the people that had been cryogenically frozen by the skrulls. God, Bucky. Why did it keep happening to him? He must be so messed up. No wonder he never called Tony.

(It was fine.)

Because why would he? As far as Bucky knew, they were merely friendly. Maybe-friends. But not _friends-_ friends. Not how Tony had thought they were. That was what Tony had told himself. Kept reminding himself. Anything else was too painful to contemplate. Tony’s heart gave an uncomfortable lurch and he had to rub his sternum to alleviate the phantom pain. Just an indigestion. An almost panic attack. Not heartache. No. Not anymore. It didn’t matter anymore.

Tony stacked all the documents together and put them in the outbox stack.

“Arlid, I finished with the documents you brought,” he said into the intercom. “Is my three o’clock early by any chance?”

“No, sir,” Arlid’s voice came through the mic. “I expect the delegation to be on time, though.”

“Yes, thank you. Show them in the moment they're here.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Tony stared out the window. He wasn’t in a hurry per se, but he also didn’t want to waste any time on useless musings. Well, now he had a quarter of an hour to get some work done. He opened a report from the overdue-but-not-important pile and skimmed it, then reread the relevant parts and filed it. The next report and the third one. It was quick work, and tedious, but it had to be done at some point.

“Arlid,” Tony said, voice-activating the intercom again, “Can you squeeze Kavanaugh in some time during this week? A ten-minute slot?”

There was a leak, and it had to be Simms or Benton. Not necessarily the men themselves, perhaps one of their assistants or even general Simm’s wife. Maybe Kavanaugh would have some ideas.

“I can pen him in tomorrow,” Arlid said after a short pause. “Will he know what this is about?”

“Just want to pick his brain. Thank you, Arlid.”

However sharp Arlid was, he wasn’t a good choice for bouncing ideas off of. Not the way Bucky was. Kavanaugh would do in a pinch. Maybe he should wait until Bucky arrived?

But Tony was dreading it. Hopefully soon, it was going to be Bucky Barnes on the other side of his intercom. He hadn’t confirmed yet but… He was going to come back to work, right? Bucky Barnes loved his work. He would be back and it would be great… But maybe it wouldn’t be? Maybe they wouldn’t click anymore, maybe Tony wouldn’t be able to look Bucky in the eye, or maybe… The only thing Tony was relatively certain of, was that there wouldn’t be any secret rendezvous behind closed doors or in broom closets. No. That part of his life was over. An unrealistic half-dream where Bucky actually wanted him back. Smiled at him, flirted with him. Had actively pursued him even.

God. Tony had been such a simpleton. So easy to play.

Tony had been a fool not to have realized. To be completely honest, he’d always thought it was weird — why would Bucky even look at him that way, nevermind want to date or have sex with him? So okay, maybe the sex part. But the rest? The moment he'd told Tony the three magic words, Tony should’ve realized. It had been too much. Over the top. Bucky Barnes wanting to fuck Tony? Yeah, possible. But ‘I love you’? Totally over the top. That’s where the skrull had gone wrong, that was where Tony had started to feel the strain in their relationship. Somewhere deep down he had known that it wasn't real. That was why their relationship had already been limping on both legs towards its completion when Tony had aimed his repulsor at him. The skrull. The longer it lasted, the less Tony heard the love behind the words, and soon, the skrull’s actions felt incongruously out of sync with his words. Pulling the trigger wasn’t Tony killing his lover, it was pulling the plug on a deception that was stripping Tony bare of any last dregs of hope.

**_Nine months ago_ **

Still in his underclothes, Bucky grabbed the knife from under his bed and leaped up. Jumping on the table, he sliced left, then right before registering he was fighting two tac-geared mercs in his bedroom. He kicked one man in the chin but he didn’t go down even for a moment.

Bucky hated fighting naked.

“Who are you?” Bucky growled. “What do you want?”

Neither of his attackers responded. One of them — the taller — picked up Bucky’s heavy weapon chest and threw it at him. Bucky ducked but at such close quarters, it clipped his shoulder and he went down, losing the knife. Swearing, Bucky punched a jaw, twisted another bastard’s arm but neither shattered.

Enhanced, he suddenly realized. They were enhanced. One of them got Bucky into a chokehold and he elbowed the son-of-a-bi—

  
  


**_A month ago_ **

Bucky was cold. This was not a novel feeling. What was novel was the blind panic — he can’t be, he can’t… He can’t be the winter soldier again! Not if it meant responding blindly to orders—

He moved his little finger and took a deep breath. Shuddered.

This was odd. He was cold, in the middle of being defrosted but his mind was clear, not foggy. Not placid or dull he was—

Bucky opened his eyes.

“Stevie?” he croaked.

  
  


**_Now_ **

Even after Steve explained everything, it hardly made any sense. Skrulls. Skrulls had been kidnapping people. Replacing them. It had started almost a year ago, and no one had noticed. Bucky was replaced and no one noticed.

Tony hadn’t noticed.

Bucky thought of all the secret smiles and covert looks they’d exchanged, and frowned. Had he been making it all up? What if Tony had never actually…

Then Tony had shot him point blank. With a repulsor.

No.

The skrull. He’d shot the skrull. Wearing Bucky’s face.

Tony had looked at the skrull wearing Bucky’s face in the eye, and shot him dead. No negotiation, no hesitation. Just one question and bam. Dead.

Bucky took a deep breath and looked out of the car window. He’d be at the Tower soon, he’d take an elevator, use his key and let himself in. The room where he’d last seen Tony. Tony had come over for a pizza and a movie and Bucky had entertained the idea that it meant something. That it might be the beginning of something more, something meaningful.

But just a few months later Tony had had no qualms about shooting him in the face.

So Bucky must’ve been wrong. Very, very wrong.

It was fine. Apparently, Bucky had never even made it into a real friend status. Not really.

Stupid.

*

God, Bucky was such an idiot to always fall for people so much out of his league? Tony had never even flirted with him, and fuck — he even flirted with Steve.

Why was Bucky returning to work again? To be a glorified secretary pining from afar? Thinking that a pizza and a movie actually meant that Tony — what? Cared? As far as Bucky knew, he might not even have asked if Bucky was among the frozen ones. No. That was unfair. Of course, Tony cared. Just… not as much.

Fuck, but Bucky was stupid.

He'd never even had a thing for grey hair before Tony.

It had taken Bucky three days to decide what to do and few more to make the arrangements. He would be back at work next Monday. Okay. And Tony probably didn’t even know yet. Maybe he even didn’t know that Bucky was back in his three-room apartment, thirteen floors below Tony. Because why would he care? He hadn’t even noticed when Bucky had been replaced. (The fact that Steve hadn’t either, not with any of his friends or colleagues who’d been skrulled, was beside the point. Tony should’ve noticed.)

(They’d been flirting.)

(Right?)

Monday.

Ronald Arlid, his temporary replacement, said that Tony was looking forward to his return. But Tony never actually called, had he? Maybe Bucky should’ve called first. Or resigned. Shit.

*

The week came and went and Bucky still hadn’t called Tony. Nor had Tony sought him out, so fair was fair.

Feeling nauseous, Bucky heaved himself out of the bed, padded to the bathroom. Blearily, glanced into the mirror. Fuck, he looked awful. Old.

Tony wouldn’t care. He’d never cared about that. Besides, by years lived, Tony was older and looked older.

Brushing his teeth was a nasty business, with his stomach churning. Bucky spat the paste out and scowled at himself in the mirror. It would be fine.

Going to the office, reacquainting himself with the schedule, the documentation and the meetings he and Tony had ahead of them, would be a trip. The idea was almost suffocating - the familiarity of it all, incongruous with how different it might feel to… to before.

The rapport between Tony and him had been ripened to a partnership where almost half of the decisions were made together, Bucky replacing Tony at most of his generic meetings with his word having the weight of the head of the state. The Iron had relied on him just as it had relied on Tony, but that was not the important part. Tony had been relying on him and then he’d been revealed as the skrull. Fuck, but Tony must’ve felt so betrayed.

A skull wearing his face.

No wonder Tony had shot him.

*

Bucky arrived early. The offices were still empty and Tony’s door was closed but the light of Tony’s landline phone was on. So he was already there. Or maybe still? Should Bucky bring him coffee? Or try to get him to go home? Bucky did neither. He sorted through the mail, checked out the calendar, and started on the reports. Tony’s phone light went on and off. Bucky worked.

Did Tony know that he was here?

At the respectable time of eight, Bucky made a cup, picked up the mail that needed Tony’s attention, and knocked.

“Come in.”

Bucky entered. Tony looked good. Fresh, clean. Put-together. Not manic and sleep-deprived as Bucky had feared.

“Good morning,” he said and tried a smile. Got a cautious one back. “I’ve updated your schedule, let me know if there's an issue. Will you take the one o’clock meeting yourself or shall I handle it?”

Tony blinked at him. “Barnes.”

“Yes, sir?” Bucky tilted his head questioningly.

“Stop being a Jarvis, it’s creepy.”

His heart soaring in his chest, Bucky grinned. “Sorry, sir,” he quipped, placing the stack on Tony's desk where he’d always set them. “I’ll stop as soon as the official part of the morning has been conducted.”

Tony barked a laugh, stood up and grabbed Bucky into a tight embrace. Startled, Bucky froze and before he had a chance to relax, Tony let him go. His smile had dimmed and Bucky wanted to hit himself.

“I’m glad to see you too,” he said, but it still sounded somewhat wooden.

Tony knew what that meant though, right? He knew Bucky.

“Thank you, Barnes,” Tony said, politely.

It sounded like a matter of fact appreciation by a gracious boss. He didn’t seem to get that Bucky really was glad to see him.

Shit.

Tony sat down and reached for the first report. Bucky hesitated only for a second, then realized that he’d been dismissed, and quickly left the room.

The day went on. Before the skrulls, Tony had been meeting his heated looks glance for glance; the times their skin touched got a shiver out of them both and the secret smiles they shared were electrifying. Had Bucky been imagining it?

Because now, looking at Tony just hurt. Every time Tony went past his desk or he had to venture inside his inner sanctum, pain blossomed in Bucky’s chest, and lightheaded, he had to sit for a second or two, recovering. Deep breathing exercises. There. Better.

Tony Stark was just a deeply flawed man. A powerful and charismatic one even with lines on his face and silver grey hair, but just a man still. One who’d never probably entertained even an idea of a random romp in the sheets with Bucky, nevermind a relationship. And now even that, after all that a skrull wearing Bucky’s face had done, would be shelved indefinitely under the label ‘almost was, never to revisit’.

Well. That was it then.

*

All in all, the first day wasn’t as awful as he’d been afraid of **.** The work was still important and Bucky was good at it. He was back to all the regular meetings he’d been going on before and Tony did ask for his opinions but it all felt… perfunctory. As if being tested. Tony wanted to know if he could still trust Bucky and it was…

Unfair was a juvenile word, so Bucky cast it aside.

And Thomlinson still hadn’t learned to write reports.

“Well, that sucks,” Bucky muttered, rubbing his forehead with his palm.

There was some peace in routine though. A part of Bucky craved some action, a mission, but the fact that Blue and Iron had finally established diplomatic relations that had some basis in trust, was excellent news. 

The restoration of the collaboration was well underway. As Steve had it, once he and Tony realized that Skrulls had been manipulating them from the start, they’d quickly managed to blow up the base in the bottom of the divide and most of the skrulls with it. Then they'd sat down again and without a big funfair achieved an actual working peace treaty, stopped listening to propaganda spewed not by them but by the Skrulls, and got the exchange of resources such as land, fuel and food quickly underway. And hopefully, in time, would be forgiven.

Now Bucky could potentially, maybe mention Steve as his friend in public without being accused of treason. Things were looking up. Except his relationship with his boss. It was weird, but their relationship seemed… strained for no apparent reason.

Had Tony realized that Bucky was in love with him? Was that what was making it weird? Or was the tension the result of Bucky trying to light up a fire under the friendship that never really was?

*

The week progressed the same. They worked, went to meetings, sometimes together, sometimes alone. Tony started calling him in to ask for advice as before. Their working relationship looked the same but _felt_ different. What had changed? Sometimes it felt like Tony was checking him out with his eyes as if worrying whether he’s changed or…

...if he were a skrull.

Fuck.

Grimacing, Bucky squared his shoulders and telling himself he was wrong stepped into the office.

“Good morning,” Bucky tried out a smile.

“Barnes.” Tony nodded without looking at him.

Twelve days in, it hadn’t gotten better. Even though the suspicious looks had stopped, the smiles were not returned. Finally Bucky got it.

The skrull wearing Bucky’s face had betrayed Tony.

Bucky _felt_ like a skrull. _He let Tony down._

*

The next three weeks felt longer than six months. He sighed. The time itself was irrelevant with how briefly Tony’s gaze only slid past him these days.

“Barnes,” came Tony’s voice out of the speakers on Bucky’s desk. “How is the analysis on the Blue’s agricultural policy coming along?”

“Due today after lunch.”

“Any news from Kavanaugh?”

“Not yet.” Bucky had some ideas about how to handle the leak after they discovered the source, but they needed some information from Kavanaugh first.

“If he doesn’t turn up by tonight, we’ll need to make some decisions without him.”

“First thing in the morning?” Bucky suggested. “We can’t let the skrulls realize that we’re onto them.”

“They don’t have a lot of resources,” Tony observed.

“Just desperation.”

“True,” Tony agreed, sounding resigned.

They were in sync, less formal than a few weeks ago, at least. Polite, nice. No joking, ever.

*

Bucky got a haircut. Not quite military short but more manageable. Just because. He also bought a new shirt but they were all in uniforms at work so Tony would not see how well it complimented Bucky’s eyes. So he got a haircut that people complimented. Jolie from down the hall started bringing him pastries she baked herself.

Tony frowned when he saw her for the second time the same week, so Bucky made a habit of walking out of the office for lunch and met Jolie at the cafeteria. It’s easier that way even if he hated himself for doing it.

Sneaking around as if he was cheating on a man who didn’t even care.

Since Bucky came back, Tony had stopped seeking him out for a chat, or even coming out of his office unless he had to. When he needed to brainstorm they did it briefly, and Tony either dismissed him or gave the matter over into Bucky’s (very capable, thank you very much) hands, and moved on to the next individual project.

Even though it didn’t seem to be affecting Tony any, it was getting painfully awkward for Bucky.

On this particular morning, Bucky was, like a spineless coward, picking up a ‘fallen’ document from under his desk when Tony passed him. So that was what it had finally progressed to. The greeting was quiet on both sides, and for the whole day, Bucky worked really hard to be out every time he anticipated Tony venturing out of his office. Tonight, he would definitely be leaving work at five on the dot e.g. long before Tony finished. 

Then Bucky was discussing the new legislation with Hendrix, so when Tony returned from somewhere, he couldn't really duck under the desk or do any other sudden disappearing act. But at least, he was busy, so Tony wouldn’t—

“Barnes,” Tony said, looking straight at Bucky.

“Mr. Stark,” Bucky responded, very professionally swallowing his awkwardness. “Anything you need, sir?”

There was a short pause. “On the second thought, no.” He gave Bucky a long blink. “Thank you, Barnes.”

Bucky nodded and went back to his conversation. Only to find out the next day that the man was a fucking liar.


	2. Tatters around you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had betas and they were awesome!  
> Thank you, guys! You know who you are!!  
> <3 <3 <3
> 
> The wonderful artist who's the author of the whole premise of this story is MassiveSpaceWren.  
> Take a look at her tumblr here:  
> https://massivespacewren.tumblr.com/

Bucky got off the quinjet and into the car.

“Mr. Barnes, welcome.”

Bucky nodded.

Officially, he was there as Tony’s eyes and ears, inspecting the military base and interviewing local hotshots. In reality, it was the plan he and Tony had devised to find out who in General Simms's administration was a spy, possibly a Skrull. Since they'd needed to get access to the general's home too, the only sure way to check seemed to be going on-site and planting the bugs personally. It shouldn't take more than a week for the results.

So Bucky donned a nice suit, boarded the quinjet used for official visits, and arrived in less than two-and-a-half hours. Disembarking in a VIP area had become commonplace by now, so Bucky simply nodded to the official sent to greet him. They shook hands and Bucky let the man suck up to him. It was unpleasant, but Tony was relying on him, and Bucky wouldn’t let him down. Not anymore.

“Your assistant has already checked in,” the one-man committee said. “An ensuite, as you requested, sir.”

“Thank you.”

That must be the tech support Bucky had requested for surveillance through official channels. The protocol was that all agents working for the Central Intelligence were regularly tested for alien influence, and whomever they sent must've passed their most recent test just last night. Bucky was going to brief the man at the hotel in person, though. Just in case. 

The ride to the hotel was short and soon, Bucky was in their suite. He stood in the doorway, already irritated because his ‘assistant’ was lounging on the sofa in their joint living room as if he owned the place. An elegant, if a flashy, suit was in slight disarray, one of his arms was thrown over the backrest, and one ankle rested on the other leg’s knee. He was reading something on his tablet but when Bucky entered, he tilted his head, grinned arrogantly, and pulling his reading glasses down, glanced at Bucky impatiently.

“Ah! Finally!” he exclaimed as if Bucky’s late arrival had personally inconvenienced him.

“Excuse me?” Bucky said icily.

The man had the gall to look surprised. Then he blinked and grinned.

“Of course!” he said, reaching up to his temple and— the photostatic veil disappeared, revealing the grinning face of Tony Stark.

It felt as if his stomach dropped, and Bucky stared.

“I’m so sorry," Tony said, his grin turning unfairly charming. "I forgot I was wearing it! The latest model allows for my own glasses, so I’ve gotten used to it, I’m afraid.” He shrugged easily. “How was your flight?”

“Fine.” Bucky sounded stiff and unfriendly, but damn it, he was not ready to deal with Tony. His mask would slip any minute now and Tony would know… “I didn’t know you were coming,” he said, grabbing his bag. “Which room is mine? Never mind,” he added, seeing a bag in one of the rooms.

He needed to get away from Tony’s sharp gaze and the pleasantly-neutral mask his grin had turned into. Without sparing a glance at Tony, Bucky quickly walked into the other room, closed the door and locked it. Fuck. That didn’t look paranoid at all. Congratulations, Barnes, now your boss thinks you’re afraid of him.

Grimly, Bucky looked around, checked all the windows, vents, and cupboards, then unpacked his suits and a tux while keeping a watchful eye on all the potential entry points like the paranoid fuck he was. Then, willing himself to let go of intrusive thoughts, he took a deep calming breath. Another. Okay, better.

After twenty minutes of lying on the bed with his laptop (and a knife in an ankle holster), he was still thinking about the annoyingly-beautiful man on the other side of the wall whom he was going to share a suite with. Why had Tony come here? The leader of the Iron himself? Didn’t he trust any of his agents? Or Bucky? Wouldn’t he have told Bucky that he was coming if he’d trusted him?

A Skrull wearing his face had betrayed Tony, what did you expect, a voice whispered in his head.

Bucky told it to shut up. But what if Tony really felt that he couldn’t trust Bucky anymore? No. This was an idiotic idea. No, surely Tony was smarter than that. They’d worked side by side for years before the Skrull had replaced him. Tony knew him. He did. Then why…

Why had Tony never called, never invited Bucky to share his lunch anymore? If they really had been friends… Tony used to throw parties for his friends who came back from the dead or captivity, friends who rejoined his team, friends…

Tony and he had never been friends. That’s the only explanation. Tony must hate him. Why else would he—?

There was a knock.

“Bu— Barnes, the car’s going to be here in thirty minutes.”

Tony didn't sound awkward but still Bucky felt awkward. He ground his teeth.

“Thank you, Mr...”

“Jason Hooper, Mr. Barnes.”

There was laughter in Tony’s voice and for a split second, Bucky’s heart soared.

“Thank you, Hooper.”

God, but this was backwards: Bucky issuing orders and Tony calling him sir. Bucky wanted to laugh, but the more he thought about it the angrier it made him. Why would Tony put him in such a position? After everything they’d been through together and after everything _that_ broke them? Bucky just wished he could walk out of this room and talk it through with Tony: how he’d been thinking they were friends, and how he’d been hoping that there was some attraction between them. But he would just sound stupid and naive, wouldn’t he? It would just be awkward and Tony would tell him, ‘Of course we are friends’ while looking at him with bewilderment and concealed pity. But Bucky would be able to tell. He always could.

Not allowing himself to think about it any further, Bucky closed his laptop, got up and changed. He checked himself in the mirror. The short hair looked objectively good on him. Comfortable, and where in the previous years he’d feared it might look old-fashioned, now he just really liked it and other people seemed to agree.

The three-piece suit though? Still weird. He patted himself down, making sure that none of his blades were showing and wondered why it always looked like some kind of battle armor on him despite being such typical civilian clothing. Was this because of the hidden weapon pockets? On Tony, any suit was always a piece of art even if he had parts of actual armor under it. On Bucky? He’d always be a soldier.

Despite this, however, Tony smiled flirtatiously at him when he walked out of his room.

“Very nice, Mr. Barnes,” Tony said appreciatively.

Pain sliced into Bucky’s breast and for a flash-second, he had the urge to punch Tony’s teeth in.

“Thank you, Hooper,” made himself say.

Tony wasn’t flirting, Bucky reminded himself. Not really. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony putting on his veil. No glasses, dark eyes, and short, dark brown hair. Generic. And still very sharp. Attractive. Wrong but still familiar in his very stance, in the way he put his hands into his trouser pockets, turned, walked. Jason Hooper, Jason Hooper, your assistant Jason Hooper, Bucky repeated to himself.

Off limits. Wrong.

“I've got a Skrull detector built into Extremis armor,” Tony interrupted his thoughts. “Thought it would be the most efficient if I came with. Could get lucky.”

Bucky nodded, looking out of the window while waiting for Tony to pack his laptop in. And then Bucky swiftly realized what his words meant: Tony didn’t trust him. He’d decided to come along but hadn’t told Bucky about it beforehand. The numbness echoed in Bucky’s empty head with ache morphing into nothingness. It didn’t matter right now. Later. Mission first. His fingers remained steady as he checked his knives.

Tony was still speaking. “You needed tech support and I decided to provide it myself. This is an important mission.”

He sounded defensive and Bucky struggled to keep a scowl off his face. With professional cordiality, Bucky acknowledged, “Smart.”

“Give me a moment, I’ll just check the equipment,” Tony said, leaning over his document case that had so much more than just documents in it. He seemed to be sorting the bugs and putting them straight into his suit pockets.

“Give me a couple of the bugs for his office,” Bucky said while pretending to re-check his knives under and inside his clothes. “I suppose you prefer to place most of them yourself?”

“I’ll give you three, you take the home office and the one on the base.” Tony gave Bucky three tiny dark flat disks, and showed him which part was the underside. “You’ll have to remove the film in your pocket before attaching it to any surface. Try to find a smooth and clean one.”

“I know how to attach bugs, Stark.”

“Hooper.”

“Right.”

It was the hair, Bucky suddenly thought. The lack of silver in his hair that disturbed Bucky the most.

“Anyway,” Tony reached out towards Bucky, dropped another disk into his jacket pocket and patted it. “One more just in case you are invited anywhere else important. I’ll take the bedrooms and living room in the house. See if there are any other good options.”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Mrs. Simms’ lounge?” His damn hip was still tingling.

“Precisely,” Tony said as if nothing untoward had even happened.

“What about her phone?” Bucky managed to ask.

“I’ll download an app on your phone when we are in the car,” Tony replied. “It can be activated when one of us is close to her phone, but any other tech should be at least 15 ft away.”

“You can probably charm her into a stroll in the garden or something.”

“Or _you_ can.” The man with Tony’s mannerisms shrugged and smiled at him.

“Well, I’m the delegate here, Hooper,” Bucky tried to sound professional. “I’ll probably be busy with the general, so the wife is your responsibility.”

“Sure,” Tony said, closing his case and nodding at Bucky to start walking. “But you are the one with the cut jawline and a new haircut.”

Bucky was glad that Tony was walking behind him and couldn’t see his face, because even if it had been a throwaway compliment that meant nothing, Bucky still got his breath knocked out of him.

It was weird to be the one Tony followed, not the other way around but the altered appearance helped. Standing near Tony in the elevator and sitting next to him in the car was more of a torture, however. The constant awareness of the proximity. The gnawing need for more and missing someone who seemed to be unaware of any deeper bond between them. The polite friendliness. Bucky would gladly endure physical torture instead.

Especially in the car. Their fingers brushed as Bucky gave Tony his phone and again when he got it back. The second time Bucky even thought that Tony must’ve done it on purpose at first, because how else would their fingers have met if Tony was holding the device and Bucky was trying to not touch him? But that was crazy, Tony wouldn’t have…? Right?

The casual contact felt electric, and now even Bucky’s body was _yearning,_ damn it. The photostatic veil did not change Tony’s smell, nor the shape of his fingers that were quickly typing on the tiny screen. Even the way Hooper tilted his head was painfully familiar.

However, the rest of the evening after that was a reprieve. Nothing special had changed but it was work: Bucky had to be charming and polite and _military_. He hated it, but on the other hand, he had a lot less time to stare at Tony who didn’t look like Tony. It was jumping through one hoop after another and almost nothing went smoothly. Even the missus didn’t want to be charmed by either of them, so in the end, Tony just spilled his drink on her and himself at the same time somehow, and then under the guise of going to the bathroom, snuck after her to pair their phones. After Tony had flirted with everyone else including the help, it felt rather great to have an excuse for glaring at him. It was irrational to feel any jealousy on a mission. Tony was… Tony. He was great. They both did well, and now the only thing left to do was sit back and listen in.

*

By the time they were back in their hotel room, Bucky was wiped and irrationally angry.

"I'll freshen up and take the first shift," he told Tony, and without waiting for an answer, started checking their suite.

Then he marched into his room, locked himself in, and for a moment just stood there, in the middle of the thick luxurious carpet, head lowered, eyes closed, fingers tightening in his hair.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." He rubbed his scalp, then dropped his hands and lifted his face toward the ceiling. "Fuck."

Later, he just stood and stared at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, scowling.

Impostor, that's who he was. Not the right hand to the leader of the Iron, not an agent, not Tony's friend. A pretender. A creature that had been repeatedly torn apart, reshaped, altered, and now he was just a lump of something that managed to attain some of its brain. Just some schmuck that looked like James Barnes.

He shouldn't have cut the hair. Tony hadn't even liked it. He'd stared just a second too long and then ignored it. Well, why wouldn't he? Why would he pay Bucky any mind ever, he was just an assistant.

*

Early the next morning, he thought he felt better, but the moment Tony emerged from his bedroom in a full set of dark pajamas and hair askew, his heart lurched.

Fuck.

Tony walked past Bucky with something of a pre-coffee expression that tried pretending to be pleasant, but wasn’t. It was adorable, and that word wasn’t even in Bucky’s vocabulary. Disgustingly adorable. But it meant that Tony had slept at least, so that was good.

After ordering them a big breakfast, Bucky let Tony take over the surveillance and got ready for the inspections. They weren’t important at this point but he took a couple of bug disks with him just in case.

“Good luck,” Tony said, keeping his eyes on the screen.

Normal. That was normal behavior for Tony when he worked. Except for how subdued he’d looked the entire morning, quiet. Preoccupied. Distant. Or maybe that was normal too. After all, they weren’t friends.

Maybe they had been before the abduction. Maybe it was something the alien had done? The way he’d acted or just the betrayal itself? The pain? The regrets?

Seeing how quietly Tony had been sitting on the sofa this morning compared to how he’d tried making the whole mission fun last night, however, made Bucky realize something that made his stomach churn and his heart squeeze painfully. Before, when they used to be friends, even casual colleague-friends, they would’ve both tried to have fun: they’d have joked, played silly poker, and winked at each other during the dinner last night. And now…

Bucky had dropped the ball.

Fuck.


	3. Out in the open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it! After a hundred reworking and rewriting of the last scene, I've decided that I have done my best!
> 
> WARNING: You need to forget what you know about jetpacks and planes. Comic physics is made up, ok?
> 
> THANK YOU Wren who helped me figure the ending tone out and Bae who gave another great idea for it (and did a super thorough beta on the rest of it too!), and especially dear MassiveSpaceWren for all the ART <3  
> The last one is especially tender and mesmerizing!
> 
> Go and show her the appreciation here:  
> https://massivespacewren.tumblr.com/

“We need to go over the data but it seems there’s nothing definitive so far,” Tony said when Bucky got back.

He still looked domestic: no jacket or tie, his shirt open at the neck, the sleeves rolled up. His reading glasses were atop his nose, his face intent over the screen.

Delicious.

“Nothing to do but wait then,” Bucky said, his fingers yearning to run through the silver locks.

“The quinjet will be ready in an hour,” Tony said, still not looking up.

He was probably doing several things on his laptop and tablet as usual. Or cuddle close like he'd once seen Jennifer doing. The ridiculous mental image of himself trying to cuddle up to a man not much larger than he shook him out of his stupid musings.

“I’ll go get ready,” Bucky said quietly, not sure if Tony would even hear him.

“Do you want food first or will you eat onboard?” Tony asked, surprising Bucky before he got to his room. “The quinjet can wait if you’re hungry.”

For a split second, Bucky felt elation at the care and attention, before he realized that Tony was just still playing the dutiful assistant part, while in reality, he just needed time to finish something on his tablet.

“I don’t care," Bucky said, letting the dull words drop from his lips. "Whichever is more comfortable for you.” He opened the door to his room. “Just let me know when you are ready,” he finished more quietly.

There was no reply and Bucky closed the door behind himself.

They should talk, Bucky decided right then, on the quinjet and with no tech in Tony's hands preferably. They’d have two hours. Might be enough time, might get awkward, but at least, after they disembarked, it would be over.

They couldn’t go on like this. Bucky couldn’t go on like this. Or maybe Bucky could just resign but despite everything, he felt that Tony deserved an explanation. After that… Tony might want Bucky to resign. He might not say it but Bucky would need to regardless.

Fuck.

*

Bucky changed into his uniform, packed up and when he returned into their shared space, there was food. He had heard the room service come and go but for some reason, he hadn’t assumed that there would actually be food. Tony was unlikely to remember this stuff… He must've set a reminder because the table was clearly set for two; Tony was being diligent. Apparently, Hooper was still taking care of his boss.

Or maybe Tony was, a tiny hopeful voice said at the back of his head. Bucky shook it off, ate, and since Tony was still at his laptop, he also powered up his, and finished his most urgent correspondence — including the one from his boss who was currently pretending to be his assistant.

Within an hour, they were on their way to the airport. They boarded the quinjet in silence and got comfortable. Neither of them had strapped themselves in and the flight attendants had finally given up on reminding them.

And now Tony was taking his tablet out.

“Tony.”

Tony was startled, clearly not expecting to be addressed. They were sitting diagonally from each other and if Bucky hadn't let Tony sit first, they wouldn't probably be facing each other at all.

“Yes?”

Tony threw Bucky a glance but went back to opening whatever app he wanted to open, obviously thinking that the conversation would be short.

“I think we should talk.”

Tony was an experienced businessman and a politician, so he virtually had no tells anymore, but Bucky knew him. He didn’t even know what it was that had changed in Tony’s face, but he could tell that Tony was on high alert.

“About what?”

His fingers were still going on the screen, but it was mostly automatic now, Bucky could tell.

“About what happened.”

Their eyes met and held.

“The Skrull?”

Somberly, Bucky nodded. “The Skrull.”

They were quiet for a bit as if they were both hoping that the other would go first.

“This isn't really working for me," Bucky said and winced internally at how relationshippy he sounded. Tony didn't seem to be reacting at all though, his fingers frozen on the screen, so Bucky hurried to go on, "I thought we should get this over with,” Bucky said tersely, “or else the elephant will explode or something.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, let’s just shoot it before that happens,” he said, but the next moment, his brief grin jolted, wobbled and died. “Sorry.” Tony cleared his throat. “Poor choice of words.”

“Well, it wasn’t me who died, so feel free to joke about it.”

Tony’s reaction was as immediate as it was visceral.

“Joke about it?” In sudden anger, Tony leaned forward and it looked like he wanted nothing more than to get his fists on Bucky. “ _Joke_ about it? You think I can joke about killing my best friend, my lover, my—”

He cut himself off before Bucky even had time to process what he’d just heard.

“...lover?”

Tony shut his eyes in obvious misery and turned his face away as if he could hide from Bucky.

“What do you mean by ‘lover’?” Bucky demanded, his voice low and his mouth dry. “Lover?” His voice cracked.

Tony swallowed heavily, opened his eyes, and shook his head, purposefully returning to the conversation, just like every other time he decided to tackle and solve a difficult issue in a negotiation process.

“I know it was stupid of me. To give in like this.” He grimaced again but this time didn’t shy away from Bucky’s unwavering gaze. “But the Skrull, he… He acted as if he… He looked at me differently.”

He stopped and Bucky wanted to shake the rest of the truth out of Tony so badly, he had to clench his fists—

“Breathe, Bucky,” Tony said gently, sympathetically.

Bucky let out his breath, sucked another lungful in, and still watching Tony like a crow for a shiny trinket, croaked, “You slept with him?”

His first conscious thought was if Tony did it — he said ‘lover’ that implies more than once —

“Yeah, sorry.” Tony made a face. “You know you’re attractive, right?”

—if he did it several times, he must've liked it. He might want to do it again!

Suppressing his bitter laugh, Bucky rolled his eyes and looked away. It was stupid. They were friends and Bucky knew that people found him attractive. He knew how to utilize the charm. Of course, Tony wouldn’t have said no… But _fuck,_ he just wanted so much more than an occasional romp in the sheets, and so did Tony.

Just not with him.

“I didn’t know that had been on the table,” Bucky said, knowing he sounded terse and disapproving, but unable to help it.

“Yeah, well…” Tony shrugged. “I know I should’ve known it wasn’t you the moment he kissed me but…” He paused. “I couldn’t really help myself.”

He muttered the last as if he was ashamed and that only drove the knife deeper. If Bucky was a better friend, he’d have said now that it wasn’t Tony’s fault, that Bucky didn’t mind, that it didn’t matter. But it did matter. It did matter that the Skrull had taken what Bucky so very much wanted and warped it, used it, and now it was tainted! Now Tony had slept with someone who looked like Bucky did, been betrayed by him, helped him get it out of his system —his curiosity sated maybe, and there was nothing left for Bucky—

No, it was better this way. If he’d had it and lost it... If he’d actually had Tony’s love, just for a little while and then it ended… Bucky would never get over it. How would he be able to live with having loved and lost like that?

And how was he supposed to move on from the lost opportunity now?

Ignoring his heart that was trying to beat out of his chest, Bucky closed his eyes. A myriad of stupid thoughts crowded his brain. What if the Skrull had been a poor lover? An unfeeling boyfriend? What if the Skrull wasn’t the best Bucky — he couldn’t have been, right? What if Tony didn’t care that much about the Skrull but would’ve fallen for _him?_ The real James Barnes? What if…?

“I wish you’d never told me,” Bucky said woodenly. “I…” He raised his eyes to Tony’s shocked, wounded face. “What am I supposed to do with this now?”

Tony’s face was doing something strange as if wanting to morph, change, express something complicated that he couldn’t even identify but Tony wasn't allowing it. It was painful to watch and so Bucky didn't. He stood.

“I need a moment,” he gritted out and at a measured pace, strode toward the tiny restroom.

He really had no emotional bandwidth to sympathize with whatever Tony was going through. The pain was sharp, warring with confusion. He was in so, so much trouble. A throng of thoughts dashed to and fro in his brain, creating chaos with fear and desire at odds with each other, preventing Bucky from putting anything into order.

Maybe he should ask Tony for a second chance? His _first_ chance? Beg Tony for the opportunity to show him how great they could be together? Surely the Skrull hadn’t really loved Tony he couldn’t have been as good… God, what was Bucky even thinking? It wouldn’t be good sex that would win someone like Tony Stark over! And would it _be_ great, or merely mediocre? Tony wouldn’t be impressed by some stupid technique that the Skrull hadn’t thought to try, nor by a fabulous date Bucky could set up. If Bucky didn’t really do it for him, nothing would help. If neither got what they needed, which one of them would be the one settling?

It was just a scenario for an even worse sort of heartbreak.

He leaned his hands on the countertop, staring numbly at his own ugly reflection as if his mirror self could answer the very same questions that were making him feel, yet again, a powerless puppet torn into different directions by HYDRA, by Skrulls, by fate — a mindless mistress of the universe.

Fuck, he was getting poetic in his head again.

He turned the water on and wet his face, keeping his palms over his eyes as if the world would be different after he came out again. Okay. One step at a time. Having dried his face and hands, Bucky straightened and looking at himself sternly, said, “You’re okay, Barnes. Nothing has changed, you’re still in love with your best friend who doesn't love you back.” He rolled his eyes. “You’ve been in worse situations. You can do it. You’ve always managed before and you always will.”

Problem-solving mode on, he nodded to himself in a promise, and strode back out into the salon.

He didn’t look at Tony. Just walked in, sat down on his previous seat, and gathering his wits, stared into the empty seat in front of him.

He could see Tony shifting in the periphery of his vision, and jumped in before Tony derailed all his intentions again.

“It’s fine. It’s okay, Tony. As far as I know, we can let it stay where it is - the past.”

He looked at Tony. Dead on, into his beautiful reflective pools of green that were giving nothing away. His little finger, though, twitched on the edge of his tablet as if he was trying to stop himself from flinching but failed to control this last tiny part of himself. Tony averted his gaze and the line of his mouth hardened for a moment. Then he nodded.

“Fair,” Tony said, letting his relief show. “I can work with that.”

“Good. Then I have another question.”

Tony gestured for him to go on. 

“It’s about before the Skrull.”

Tony’s beautiful eyes snapped up to him with a burning intensity. He swallowed as if preparing himself for something. “What about it?”

Having no idea what could set Tony on edge about before, Bucky hesitated, but then told himself to stop beating around the bush and just push through, “I thought we were becoming friends. Was I wrong?”

Tony’s face softened. “Bucky.”

Bucky’s breath hitched. It sounded like a yes, but he couldn’t even move until he heard the confirmation.

“No, you weren’t wrong,” Tony said softly, “We've been working together for years, Bucky. Of course, we were friends. Are.”

Relief clogged Bucky’s throat and he had to swallow to clear it. Smiling slightly, Tony leaned into the back of his seat, and looking equally relieved, sighed.

“We are friends, Bucky," he repeated, "and as far as I’m concerned, we always will be. Whatever happened between me and… him… it.” Tony’s lips hardened. “As far as I'm concerned, it has no bearing on what’s between us.”

It probably wasn't as simple as that but Bucky appreciated Tony's willingness to set aside what probably seemed like Bucky being unnecessarily squeamish about something that wasn't even that important to Tony.

Bucky nodded in acknowledgment. He couldn't talk. If he tried, his voice would come out all wobbly and wet and that was the last thing that either of them needed. Bucky still had no idea how to swallow the part of something more having happened between Tony and the Skrull with his face, but as far as the here and now was, this was good. Promising.

He forced his lips into a smile and got a relieved one back.

“And in case it’s not clear,” Tony went on, “I need to state that I’d very much like for us to continue working together.”

Bucky exhaled. He could see that Tony absolutely meant it. The relief coursing through his veins was making his insides tremble. They _were_ friends. At least. And they could keep on working together.

Good.

“And you should probably know that I am truly sorry,” Tony whispered then, turning his head away.

“Sorry about what?” Bucky’s eyes bore into Tony’s profile. Did he…? Regret it? Regret that it had been a Skrull? Wished it had never happened?

But Tony didn’t seem to be very tense. Sad maybe? Then he seemed to shake it off and sighed in a somewhat irritated manner.

“I know it’s irrational, but…” Tony paused for only a split second, and then vehemently, with accusation in his tone, went on, “I shot you, Bucky. I know it wasn’t really you, and what he did… It didn’t have anything to do with you, but he was wearing your face and I shot him and me…” As if lost for words, Tony’s mouth opened and closed for a moment, helplessly. “I had to do it, Bucky. I'm so sorry!”

He lifted his head as if waiting for judgment, his face was frozen into a desperate apology mixed with indignation. Guilt and a plea for understanding. Forgiveness.

Bucky let out a shuddering breath.

“I understand why you had to. It’s okay,” he replied, his voice low, soothing, and suddenly realizing that it must have been so very hard for Tony, added, “I have no idea what it must have cost you. I’m sorry too.”

For a little while, they sat quietly, as if everything that needed to be said, had already been said, but Bucky felt unsettled. He wished he had something profound to offer. Words that would put it all into some kind of perspective that wasn't just a huge ugly mess in his head.

Tony had slept with him. The Skrull version of him. He had repeatedly, willingly had sex with someone who had been wearing Bucky’s face, acted and talked like him, so probably… The sex would have been similar? To what extent would it have resembled sex with Bucky? Obviously, there would’ve been differences, right? So maybe he should tell Tony? Maybe Tony would like to…

Faintly nauseous, Bucky shook the stupid idea off. Tony hated repeating the same mistakes, and he definitely wouldn’t want to have sex with someone who looked like a person who’d betrayed him. It hadn’t been Bucky, no, but would Tony’s hindbrain know that?

“I need a drink,” Bucky said, standing. Then realizing how it sounded, amended, “I mean something to drink.” He walked up to the bar. “Coffee? Soda?”

“Coffee’s good.”

Tony sounded quiet. Subdued. It didn’t suit him. They should just get back to normal. Bucky put the cup under the espresso machine nozzle and pushed all the right freaking buttons. At least he knew how to make Tony the best coffee—

“I might have questions later,” Bucky said abruptly before he even realized that he would say anything. “About… the in-between. With the Skrull. And I’m not even entirely sure if it’s any of my business since the Skrull was not me and as far as I’m concerned, you just slept with some dude I’ve never met while I was away, so I don’t even know why I’m…”

...bothered by it. He took Tony’s cup and his own glass of water and walked to set them both on the table before Tony. He sat.

Going by Tony’s stony face, Bucky was fucking it up. He shouldn’t have said anything. It was supposed to be over now. He was supposed to put it behind him. Fuck.

He took a sip.

“What is pivotal here,” Bucky tried to backtrack, “is figuring out a way to still work together.”

He was going in circles. They were back at… God, Barnes, let it go already! What is there even to fig—

“And remain friends,” Tony interjected, almost sharply. “I hoped it wouldn’t affect…”

Bucky glanced at him and Tony quieted. Suddenly they were both hesitant. Shit, he shouldn’t have brought it up at all. God. All the progress, all the reassurances that they’d just made, were suddenly a quicksand beach and Bucky had his heaviest combat boots on.

“And that yes,” he tried assuring Tony. “That’s what I meant, retaining our working and personal relationship. Our friendship.”

“I mean,” Tony said shakily, “if being friends with you also means you taking the time off or… taking a vacation, we can… we can do that.” Tony was gritting his teeth, his jaw was clenched and yet he didn’t seem angry. “I would prefer to keep working together, yes, but not if it will affect our friendship. If you need time...”

“I… I’m sorry,” Bucky said shortly, feeling frustrated with himself. “I didn’t mean to imply that our friendship was in jeopardy, and I guess I can see one… the obvious reason you'd even have sex with him, but I have to confess that I’m still somewhat confused about the… the ‘lovers’ part of the equation. Just another something to get used to."

He tried offering a smile but Tony didn’t seem reassured. Obviously giving himself time to regroup, Tony slid his tablet to the side and set his reading glasses on top of them. Bucky wanted to hug him and shake him simultaneously. Of course, Bucky wouldn’t let anything get between their relation— friendship. Of course, he wasn’t. But Tony didn’t seem to grasp that and...

“As I said,” Tony said, interrupting Bucky's frantic train of thought. “Our friendship is important to me. You’re right, we were friends before— Before everything, and I would like for us to be friends again. Obviously, it’s not…” Tony swallowed, and his lips did the thing they did when he was trying to show his competitor that he wasn’t afraid. “It’s not exactly the same seamless transition as it perhaps is for you, but… You don't have to worry. I won’t… I’m going to be okay.”

Which, for a moment, didn't compute. Why wouldn’t he be…? The idea that Tony might have fallen for him too… Either because of the Skrull or before, it wouldn’t matter, not in the long run. Numbly, Bucky stared.

The reality shift felt like a lurch in his gut, then his body jolted, and as if in a slow motion simulation, Bucky saw Tony’s water bottle sliding and dropping off the table. He reached his hand out to catch it—

The quinjet careened to the left.

“Suit up!” Bucky yelled.

“What…?” Tony yelled back, but on instinct, his skin was already turning gold.

They both tumbled into the empty seats that were somehow now under them. There was a clunk at the window above them, and for a moment there was an ugly Skrull face grinning behind the glass, then the clawed paw planted a suction cup bomb on the window, and with a flash of his leathery wings, the Skrull flew away.

“Bomb!” Bucky yelled, leaping backward away from the window.

The quinjet straightened out and Bucky was running for the parachutes. Before he could get properly strapped in, Tony’s armored arm was around his midsection and they were jumping out of the open door straight into another Skrull with a jetpack on his back which Tony promptly repulsored into exploding. 

There was a swarm of them, definitely more than two dozen, and Bucky hated that he was still struggling to fasten the straps while Tony had to fight one-handed. Bucky would’ve just started shooting but Tony needed to be rid of him ASAP or they both would be dead soon.

Two more Skrulls fell, Bucky got his buckles closed, and in the distance, Bucky could see the quinjet dipping its nose towards the land at a sharp angle with both of its engines burning.

“Let go!” he yelled at Tony and fell, trusting Iron Man to protect him until he got his guns out. Some of the Skrulls tried following him and Bucky shot them. Then the fabric was open over his head and another Skrull was diving towards him. The Skrulls were surprisingly fast with their wings and jet packs and Bucky was a sitting duck suspended in the air. The quickest of them all, however, was Tony. He zipped in and out of Bucky’s sight, shooting the alien lizards out of the sky, and keeping Bucky’s chute safe.

Vaguely, Bucky noted two more chutes opening ahead of him, and went on shooting. Thankfully, none of the attackers got close and by the time he had to switch to his knives, he was landing.

In the relatively short time it took for Bucky to reach the empty field, Tony managed to neutralize the enemy, fly by the pilots, and was now standing happily next to Bucky with his faceplate up and a maniacal grin plastered all over his face.

“The pilots are okay, no casualties,” he reported, happily.

Bucky wanted to whack him over the head. Or maybe kiss him.

“Good,” Bucky acknowledged, his eyes darting away. He unstrapped, took a look around the farmland and started rolling the chute back into its bag. “You notified Steve?”

“Yeah, he wanted to come but I told him we’ve got it.”

Bucky nodded. He thought about how Tony seemed to still be high on adrenaline, probably happy to be out of the awkward conversation, but that also meant in denial about his own well-being and that, more than anything, Bucky couldn't allow. Plus, now that there was a small chance that Tony… that it wasn't hopeless.

Oh, fuck it

Dropping the chute where it was, Bucky turned to Tony. "Tell me honestly," he demanded, straightening up to face Tony, whose smile immediately froze into a grimace. "Did he hurt you? The Skrull?" Bucky took another step closer and raised his hand to brush over Tony's sweaty face. "Because I swear to god, if he hurt you, I'm gonna kill them all."

Tony startled at the touch. “You’re gonna kill them all anyway,” he said faintly.

Bucky caressed the rigid muscles of Tony's cheek until his face smoothed out into a baffled blankness, his eyes open, vulnerable and wounded.

"Did he, Tony? The truth," Bucky said softly but with steel in his voice. "If you lie, I'll know," he added in a whisper.

Tony swallowed. "He…"

Tony's arm reached out, his armored fingers brushing Bucky's as if in search of support and Bucky grabbed them, squeezed his hand.

"Tony," he prompted gently.

"He didn't love me," Tony finished, pain raw in his voice. "Not like… Not like you do," he went on bravely but still with a questioning tilt at the end as if he had no idea.

"Tony," Bucky whispered. He really didn’t. God. Tony had no idea that Bucky loved him and that was all Bucky's fault.

God damn it!

Bucky took the final step, cupped the back of Tony's head, and kissed him. There was no response for only half a second and then Tony’s lips started moving - possibly out of reflex at first, then deliberately, with surprise, then awe, then…

Tony pulled back.

“Bucky?” He looked unsure, so painfully hopeful.

Bucky tried smiling in reassurance. “Yeah, sweetheart?” he said, trying to get his stupid heart under control.

They were both out of breath, chests heaving; Bucky, for his part, feeling overwhelmed and Tony… Tony was frowning.

“You… Why?” Tony asked, looking unsure.

Bucky opened his mouth, wanting to reply properly. To tell Tony, but suddenly his words were all jumbled up in his head, like disjointed syllables. He took a deep breath and finally blurted, "I love you! I'm sorry I didn't tell you.” He took another shaky lungful of air. “It was cowardly of me not to but I do love you."

He leaned closer, their foreheads touched and Bucky closed his eyes, just breathing. He heard the helmet plates receding and opened his eyes to see the gold undersuit disappearing into the collar of the armour. Seeing Tony’s eyes wide with awe, Bucky smiled and brought his fingers under Tony's chin and tilted his head to the side, raising his own lips toward Tony's for the second time.

His hand snaked around Tony's back, and this time, they came together like a wave of passion and tenderness, like the bubbly edges of an ocean kissing the cold evening sand in the dark. Time lost its meaning.

When they parted he had no doubt that Tony loved him. Bucky knew it as surely as he knew that the fucking sirens were coming near and their public tete-a-tete would soon be over.

"You kiss differently," Tony rasped, sounding astonished.

"Yeah? No need for Skrull detector then?"

"Nah, you're good."

"Good."

Bucky leaned away to take a look around as the first emergency vehicle burst out into the field.

"Besides," Tony said, a bashful smile still touching his lips, "my detector is on 24/7."

Bucky snorted. "Of course, it is."

"Sorry," Tony started to apologize again but Bucky had just had enough of it.

"I'm glad it is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked! <3


End file.
